


Unfettered

by moodymarshmallow



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: F/M, Het
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-11
Updated: 2012-06-11
Packaged: 2017-11-07 12:32:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/431232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moodymarshmallow/pseuds/moodymarshmallow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for Sakuratsukikage on Tumblr; Fenris and Isabela make things work.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unfettered

He wouldn’t let Isabela tie him up. The moment the word “rope” was uttered, he was sitting up on the bed, grabbing his pants and shoving a foot into them awkwardly. It took her twenty minutes of soothing him, pressing her bare breasts against his back, kissing his shoulders and neck, stroking his hair, and promising that she would never, ever suggest something like that again, to get him to stay. Fenris calmed in degrees, first dropping the pants back onto the floor, then shifting to face her, and then cupping the back of her head when she brushed her lips against his collarbone.

She made a deal with him; rope would never come up again, but this time, just this time, he’d put his hands behind his head, under the pillow, and let her do what she liked best. He spent a moment just gazing at her, his eyes flicking wild from hair to lips to breasts to thighs to boots that still hadn’t come off. He nodded, slightly, in one of those little movements that she had learned to look for, and lowered himself onto his back.

Isabela started slow, straddling him low on his thighs, pressing both hands to his chest and sliding her nails oh-so-lightly until she felt him shiver.  She touched him in unexpected ways, tracing long, curled trails with her tongue across the lyrium burns on his arms, stroking his ears with her fingertips, bringing herself forward so that he could put his mouth on her breasts, but pulling away before he could. She wanted him panting for her—throwing off that discipline just enough to want to grab her and grind against her like he had no control.

Fenris didn’t blush. He didn’t beg or groan or accuse her of being a tease. But when he lowered his eyelids and parted his lips silently, she knew she had him. That’s when she was ready to take him, to slide up his body and position herself so she could brush her wet lips against his cock while looking into his eyes. When he snapped them shut and turned his head into the pillow, she marked it as a victory.

His ears were red, just at the very tips, and it delighted her. Elves—no matter how stoic they pretended to be, got riled up just like men, and they felt so good underneath her. They all had these slim hips that fit so perfectly between her thighs, and they were so much sturdier than their thin frames suggested. Their proportions elsewhere were wonderful too.

Fenris kept his hands under the pillow. He let her have that control, and loved what it did to her.  She was a feral animal, her hair wild, her eyes on fire as she reached between them to ease him slowly into her. He was as still as he could manage, digging his nails into the pillow while she lowered herself with a deliberate lack of speed. When her body was flush with his, he understood.

It wasn’t about control as much as it was about being free to let her body flow, to toss her hair, to lift and lower her hips at her own pace, to be in the perfect position to watch Fenris’ chest rise and fall as his breath came harsh and fast, and to watch the muscles in his arms twitch as he tried  _so_  hard not to grab her by the hips and drive himself upwards.

It was worth it; she always made sure it was worth it, and when she finished, she leaned down to brush her lips against his.

That’s when his hands came out, not to fondle her, not to grab her, but to gently stroke her hair out of her face as they kissed.

They were good together. More than they would ever admit.


End file.
